He closes his eyes, bending to kiss my shoulder. “Okay.” Nodding, he seems to consider this. “Aside from the chemistry between us? I’m aware that you’re genuinely amazing. You went to London to chase down a story you saw on a random Twitter feed and are fearlessly pursuing it, no matter how sinister it’s become.” He looks up, meets my eyes. “Your long-term boyfriend lied to you for an entire year about something enormous, and you had the strength to cut him out so completely that not only have you not spoken to him since the day you told him you knew about his lie, but you let go of your entire friend group who encouraged you to forgive him. You tore into me for not telling you who I was, and you don’t let Yael bully you into doing what she wants. You’re funny and vulnerable and honest. You don’t stare at your reflection in the mirror unless I point it out to you. You’re reasonable and confident. You know where I come from, who I was before I became Alexander Kim. You’re passionate in bed to a degree I’ve never experienced, and every time I find out something new about you, I seem to f—” He stops, adjusting his mouth around a word. “I seem to feel more.”
I chew my lip, bite-strangling the smile.
His eyes shine as he watches me. “I take it that answer is acceptable?”
I laugh, turning to hug him. “That answer is acceptable.”
“I can bring you to London at least once a month,” he says, and his gaze moves back and forth between my eyes. “I want to be with you.”
“I want to be with you, too.”
And just that simply, it’s settled.
Sixteen
Several hours, and a respectable number of drinks later, I leave Billy inside talking to colleagues and head out. There’s a line of cars about a block long outside the event, all idling at the curb. My goal is the string of Ubers waiting across the street, but a tall figure in a black suit catches my eye. She’s got a shock of wild red hair spilling around her shoulders. This still-surprising version of Yael leans against the front passenger door, reading something on her phone. As if sensing me in the crowd, she looks up, flicks a graceful hand for me to peel away and walk down the block toward her.
In front of her, I stop, smiling. “I didn’t tell you earlier, but your hair is awesome.”
She nods but predictably doesn’t say anything. I expect a lecture, an update, maybe some instruction for how to get back to the room without running into Alec along the way, or even how I should go home tonight. But to my surprise, she reaches out, opening the back door and gesturing for me to climb in. “He insisted.”
Alec is in the back, his face partially hidden in shadow. I want to ask what on earth he’s thinking, inviting me into his car right out in front of an Associated Press event. I’m not really a somebody, but we’re in a place where people who want to find out who I am can do it quickly and connect the dots to the LA Times story. Even if his part of it hasn’t gone public yet, Alec’s privacy is critical and there are at least forty people still here who would recognize Yael for who she is.
Yael climbs into the front seat and quietly tells the driver we’re ready to go. Silence seals up inside the car with us.
Alec’s hand comes over mine, but this is the only contact we risk. We’re otherwise upright, facing forward. We don’t speak. I think if I looked at him in that tux again, I’d immediately forget that Yael’s disapproving presence is right there, that the poor driver doesn’t want to watch me straddle Alec in the back seat. He bends his neck, looking down at his phone, typing with one hand, and I pull my Batphone out of my clutch when it vibrates.
I didn’t want to sleep without you.
I grin down at my screen, replying. I would have been really bummed to be alone knowing you’re so close.
Three nights left. I wouldn’t let one pass.
I squeeze his hand in reply, shoving down the tide of sadness that rises. Slowly, he pulls our joined hands onto his thigh.
His voice surprises me, rising out of the blank silence: “Did you have a nice time after I saw you?”
I glance at him and then Yael. She is undoubtedly the strict teacher and I am the unruly student, continually breaking her rules while the star student—my partner in crime—walks away clean every time. “I did, surprisingly. I usually hate those things.”
It was mostly hanging out with other press people, trading stories, digging for information. Fun, exhausting, and the usual—just in fancier clothes.
He slides my hand higher and leaves it at his upper thigh. In the darkness of the car, it’s an invitation.